


Spackled

by ShunRenDan



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Epilogue, Everything's Okay, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, post-kh3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 03:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21220133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShunRenDan/pseuds/ShunRenDan
Summary: In the twilight of the bedroom, it was impossible not to see the little paint spots that spackled his skin. They were everywhere: little, brown stars sprinkled into a field of tan, all spots that she found a wealth of love for. Somewhere in the haze of her memory was an old woman, insisting to a girl with red hair that those same marks were little kisses from god.Naminé did not know if she had any, or where hers were. She only knew his, and that two of them stood like twins just below his belly button.





	Spackled

**Author's Note:**

> Something fluffy for someone else. As always, feel free to make requests.

The evening air was warm in the dead weeks that closed out Twilight Town’s autumn. A single auburn strip cut across the bedroom floor to highlight the bed Roxas and Naminé shared in gold, painted the rest of the room a dull red, and left the dust against the window pane to glimmer like stars cut into the honeyed clouds. Over the last few months, the two of them had deigned to share a bed together more often than not.

To Naminé, that was no mistake.

Roxas had earned his peace and she had earned hers. With Sora gone, they were all the other left to fill the holes in their hearts with meaning. Xion was kind, but she faded every so often, taking Lea with her to travel the stars. Isa was a constant, but he preferred life in the background, showing up only when Lea did.

Hayner, Pence, and Olette were friendly… but they had their own lives, and it was hard for them to stay in one place long enough that they could all spend time together. That left Roxas and Naminé to their own, quiet days, spent traversing the apartment above the usual spot in simple, silent tandem.

On some nights, they separated. Naminé took the bed, Roxas the couch, content to nap wherever he could while she spread out across his covers and adored the way his scent clung to his sheets in his absence.

On the last night of the autumn, they shared the bed together, laid up like crumpled newspapers to gather dust.

Roxas pressed his lips down on the crook between Naminé’s shoulder and neck, eliciting a subtle shiver from the blonde girl whose back was pressed up against his belly. She rolled her shoulder in reply, leaving the expanse of her throat free for Roxas to pepper another kiss — and then another, and another — across it. He raked his lips across the column of her throat to her clavicle, then glanced up to find her eyes already staring down at him, half-lidded.

“You’re being quite affectionate,” she mused, as if her voice weren’t already thickened and he couldn’t hear just how eager she was to be left breathless.

“Maybe,” Roxas huffed, planting another kiss against her bare skin. Naminé’s hand curled downward, deigned to bury itself in his hair, and guided him toward her chest. Roxas’s fingers tugged at the strap of her dress, exposing her right breast to the cold air.

Her nipple wasn’t yet pert, but he could hear the change in her breathing the second he circled it with his tongue. She froze beneath the burn of his touch, her back straightening against the bed while she opened herself up to him. Her fingers tightened in his hair as he traced a gentle circle around her breast with his tongue and lips, bespeckling her flawless skin with little pecks and pips.

Just as quickly as she tensed, she relaxed. He was too busy staring at her face, watching her eyes close in succulent succinction to notice the moment that her nipple emerged, but he treated it all the same. He closed his lips around it and sucked gently on the skin, savoring the way her skin tasted beneath his tongue and relishing the heady scent of sea-salt that lingered over every inch of her.

Roxas swore she moaned when he drew away, pulling at the font of her chest with a gentle pop that reduced the strongest woman he knew to a breathy shiver.

Naminé’s fingers tightened around the curls of his blonde hair the moment he pulled her other strap down, exposing the full modesty of her chest to the cool, bedroom air. He clambered over top of her, straddled her hips with his, and went from one breast to the other. The fingers of her free hand curled into the fabric of the pillow beneath her head, where blonde hair spilled like gold ink across cool white.

Her cheeks were red by then, and her eyes were sealed shut, as if she were afraid to look down at him lest she open her mouth again. He knew her, and he knew her quiet pride.

“Naminé,” he whined, “aren’t you going to look at me?”

“Roxas, I…”

“Please?”

She huffed and opened her eyes the minute he dipped below her breast, lips dragging over her intercostals while his hands gently pulled down the front of her dress. She squirmed beneath him, lips wriggling.

“Alright,” she said, her free hand coming to cover the bridge of her nose so that he couldn’t see her blush. As if he’d been blind thus far, as if she were afraid to admit the extent to which her lust had grown over the last five minutes. “I’ll indulge you.”

So she watched him kiss each rib, his fingers raking her dress down her sides. She hadn’t bothered to wear a bra — what the point was escaped her — and only while he worshiped her did she regret that. There was something sinful in the way his full, pink lips kissed her belly, played at every inch of her exposed skin. She’d noticed it first while he’d been suckling at her breast.

At the thought, her left hand sank from the pillow to her left nipple, pirouetting around the nub there while Roxas shimmied the last of her dress down her legs so that he could gaze upon her bare.

She still wore panties, of course.

A pair of slim whites, topped by a simple ribbon that hung below her belly button like the bow on top of a present. Roxas pressed a kiss to it first, toyed with the hem, and then brazed his lips against the flat of her stomach. Naminé shuddered and lifted her hips in reply, the heat in her belly only just beginning to burgeon. She knew that feeling well, and how quickly Roxas would latch onto it.

He smiled up at her as if he knew, sea-blue eyes lakes to drown her in. Naminé looked away when he kissed a little lower, lips playing across the ribbon of her panties to find her mons. Her fingers flexed in his hair while the flat of his tongue played against the fabric, raking downward to brush ever so gently against her…

“Roxas,” she scolded him, upset that he would tease her. “Get to it, please.”

She lifted her knees while he took his place between her legs, mumbling like a mad king back at her.

“I got it, I got it. I never knew you could be so needy, Naminé.”

“I’m not needy, you’re just…”

She lost that thought when he buried a kiss like treasure against the inside of her thigh. The heat of his cheek brushed up against her womanhood, and even through the cloth she couldn’t ignore just how warm he was. He felt like a furnace, a god of the sun ready to bless her beneath his touch. While he settled into place, he lifted her from below, arching his hands over her hips so that he held her up with his elbows while his fingers could fan across her belly.

Naminé arched her hips and Roxas pulled her panties to the side. Her breath caught in her lungs like steel raking over flint, and her entire body caught the flame when the flat of his tongue rolled over her womanhood in one, slow motion. The fingers in his hair tightened and relaxed as he issued her another, stoking the flame that he’d already built.

The slow licks gave way to more fervent, dutiful ones in time. Careful worship fell away, replaced by more zealous devotion that led to the blossom at the head of her nethers. Every time his tongue brushed up against it, she felt that fire in her belly glow, and before long she was whimpering.

It was so unfair of him to tease her.

“Roxas,” she said, simply.

“Uh huh?”

She dragged his head upward after a particularly long slash of the tongue. It didn’t take so much as a look for her to know that he was grinning down there, proud of himself.

He closed his mouth around her blossom, the tip of his tongue circling it like a lion might have a gazelle. He was hungry to please her, and that eagerness showed in the way he moaned against her body. Naminé’s fingers clenched and unclenched, her knees wriggled — and then, as he raked the flat of his tongue across her, she closed her sweet thighs around his head.

Roxas took that as encouragement.

The teasing fell away, replaced by genuine satisfaction. He treated her like the fountain of youth, lapping eagerly at her jewel as if it might restore the years he’d lost to trauma and deception. Naminé whimpered and bucked against him, her breaths falling shorter and shorter while he leveled his speed and dug in for the main course. Her nose wrinkled and her head arched back into the pillow, the flame in her gut suddenly replaced by a ball of bristling lightning.

It sent electricity through her legs, her fingers, her skin. She could feel it all over her body, the need in her at its peak.

Instead of telling him, she kept her need to herself. She was too proud to announce how close she was to falling apart.

Her thighs tightened one more time around his head and Roxas squirmed, but didn’t dare slow down. All at once, the floodgates broke apart and her entire body caught fire. If he saw the muscles in her belly contract, he said nothing of it, choosing instead to continue his prayer while relief flooded through her.

Down below, she knew the sheets were equally flooded, and she didn’t need to see his face to know that his chin would be slick.

“Roxas, I’m…”

“Don’t be,” he cut her off, clambering up her body as she awkwardly shifted to ignore the wet spot that now waited beneath her. He put himself over her hips as she climbed toward the headboard, refusing to look at him.

“It’s your bed,” she said, softly. “You’re going to need to wash the sheets.”

“It’s fine,” he laughed, a kiss falling against her hair. Her forehead was matted with a very thin sheen of sweat, and her cheeks were still flushed. He kissed those too, as if apologizing for the fact that she even wanted to apologize in the first place. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Your face is all wet,” she pouted.

“Whose fault is that?”

Finally peering over at him, Naminé squinted.

“Yours,” she decided.

“Yeah, okay,” he said. “I’ll give you that one.”

“We should take a shower. So that we don’t sleep in our sweat.”

“Are you sure you don’t just want to see me shirtless?”

Naminé stared at him coolly, expression unimpressed. One blonde curl stuck to her cheek. Roxas didn’t falter in the slightest.

“Let’s get in the shower,” he acquiesced. “You and me.”

“Together?”

“I mean, we’ve been going out a while. It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked.”

“I suppose,” she admitted, watching him climb off of her and sling his shirt from his shoulders.

In the twilight of the bedroom, it was impossible not to see the little paint spots that spackled his skin. They were everywhere: little, brown stars sprinkled into a field of tan, all spots that she found a wealth of love for. Somewhere in the haze of her memory was an old woman, insisting to a girl with red hair that those same marks were little kisses from god.

Naminé did not know if she had any, or where hers were. She only knew his, and that two of them stood like twins just below his belly button. Her eyes clung to them and the little “V” that defined his pelvis as he stripped down before her. Quietly, she removed her panties, pulling them down her ankles, and stripped nude to join him on the short walk to his attached bathroom.

Her hands worked at the sides of her arms as they stepped inside. Roxas went first, drawing the tap and leaning forward to grant her a full view of his back. There, hearty muscles and scars she knew every inch of littered him like headlines through a montage of her newsprint memory. Before she knew it, her finger was playing along one that ran from the ridge of his shoulder to the small of his back.

Roxas turned over his shoulder to glance at her, but he didn’t say anything about it until her hand strayed a little too low.

“Naminé, that’s my butt,” he grumbled.

“I know,” she smiled, rubbing the small of his back while the water heated.

Roxas would have purred if he were a house cat. He melted back into her, nearly stumbling over himself. She hid her head between his shoulder blades, favoring his warmth over the chill of the bathroom. It felt nice to have so much time with him. After everything that transpired with Xehanort, with Sora, with… everything, she thought she might never find a moment of peace.

Now, she had more of those moments than she knew what to do with, and she was so much happier for it. The horrors of the shade were gone, replaced by an idyllic looking future that loomed heavy on the horizon.

When the water finished heating, Roxas let her step inside first. She relished in the heat and the steam that rose from her skin, basked in the water, and then grumbled when Roxas put another kiss down on her neck. She could feel him at her back, his stiffness pressed up against her.

“Roxas,” she breathed, impassive. “We’re supposed to be getting clean.”

The water continued to fall, but her hands fell to her sides, fanning out against her thighs. Slowly, he continued forward, pressing her up against the shower wall.

“We shouldn’t,” she continued.

“Right,” he replied, his lips finding the lobe of her ear.

He breathed against her and she shuddered, letting free a quiet whimper that told him all he needed to know.

“That’s not fair,” Naminé chided him.

“It’s not?”

He said it as if he weren’t practically moaning his need into her ear. As if he weren’t so stiff against her rear that he might explode at any moment. Naminé frowned and nodded, trying to deny him, but lacking the desire to.

“Horribly unfair.”

“Do you want me to stop?”

She didn’t say anything.

“That doesn’t sound like a no,” Roxas breathed, nipping at her ear.

“We can’t go all the way,” she finally decided.

“That’s alright.”

Naminé leaned up against the wall and Roxas placed his manhood just below her, sliding it into the space between her thighs. At once, the shower grew a thousand degrees hotter. Even just the feeling of her warmth against him was enough to reduce him to a whimper, and Roxas brought his head down on the crook of her neck in response to the sudden, hungry need that threatened to bring him to his knees. Careful not to push inside of her, he thrusted, coasting between her legs.

Naminé backed up against him with every thrust, rocking her hips in tandem with his as if it weren’t going to drive him insane. In the meanwhile, Roxas continued to moan into her ear, sending little shocks through her that left her heart to jump and thunder in her chest.

She could feel the head of his member, his stiffness. Roxas wasn’t the largest man out there, but he was stiff and he was hers, and the feeling he inspired in her couldn’t be equaled. It was a strange sort of desire, one foreign to her in the days before she’d become real. It rendered the rest of life a dream, the moment they shared her only reality.

“Roxas,” she breathed. “You shouldn’t.”

“I’m not,” he hissed back.

“It would be a terrible idea,” she admitted.

“We’re in the shower for a reason.”

“We are.”

And then they weren’t.

With the water still running, Roxas lifted her by the hips and stepped out of the shower. Naminé squeaked as he carried her to the bed, half-slipping on the floor with every step. He threw her down onto the sheets and she rolled onto her belly as he fell on top of her, tickling at her sides and her hips and every little bit of her he could find. Once she started laughing, he started kissing, branding her skin in pantomimicry of the beauty marks that flecked his.

Then, before she knew it, his face was buried in her again, his tongue working between her legs and his nose pressed between the cheeks of her ass. She lifted her hips and he provided her more attention, the flat of his thumb finding the nub of her clitoris so that he could once again provide for the hunger he’d stoked in her.

This time, she didn’t bother to hide her moans.

She thrust her face into the pillows, but her mouth was still exposed, leaving him to hear the symphony he wrought over her.

For a moment, he paused, and Naminé was about to turn when she felt a finger brush against her entrance.

“Roxas, we should get back to the…”

Naminé exhaled sharply and lost the thought the minute he pushed that finger inside of her. It surfed deep, then slowly curled upward to stroke her. Naminé moaned loud and long, the feeling all she could consider. Her fingers gripped the sheets hard as Roxas stoked her flame, his finger curling back and forth inside of her while his thumb pleasured her jewel.

More devastating than the simple motion was the way he lifted her with every stroke, turning the way their bodies joined together into a simple, lustful piston. Her breathing grew harried before she realized it, and the first tear was lost on her. She didn’t know how they started.

“Naminé, are you crying?”

“You make me feel too good,” she panted.

Roxas took that as a sign of encouragement.

Gently, he kissed down on the small of her back, massaging her with his lips while his hands worked at her altar. He wanted to show her all the love he didn’t dare show her around their friends, the sort of affections he hid from Pence and Hayner and Olette. She was usually so careful and reserved — didn’t she deserve to cut loose with him once in a while?

Naminé came unabashedly, groaning all the while. She let her frustrations out with one, deep moan that rattled through her entire body, her face redder than ever before. Roxas coached her through it with subtle affirmations and quiet kisses, quietly appreciating the way she shook.

When she was done, she was panting, almost bawling, her face wet with her tears. Roxas helped her onto her back and took her mouth with his. It wasn’t hard to tell how tired she was.

Naminé was strong and hearty, but quick to tire. She was still getting used to her body and the ways it could be used. He wasn’t surprised, but he was flattered by the way she moaned beneath his touch and the different ways she lost herself to him.

“I love you,” he laughed.

She didn’t sound impressed. “Why?”

“Only you would ask that.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“You’ve seen you,” Roxas pouted, flecking her chin and cheek with a hail of half-laugh, half-kisses. “Haven’t you?”

She huffed.

“You’re so sweet,” he continued. “And thoughtful, and smart.”

When she didn’t answer, he brought his face to hers and took her cheeks in his hand so that she had to look at him.

Together, they searched each other’s eyes for what felt like an eternity.

“How could I not love you?”

Roxas kissed her one more time, long and deep. She returned the favor after a moment, her lips working against his to create sweet music that ceased only when she lowered her chin to pull away from him. Her fingers traced along the borders of his jaw while she committed his face to memory.

Somehow, Roxas always looked to be made of stone. Even at his softest, he was a man made of marble and wonder, a greek hero from a lost era. Hercules, she understood, should have been deeply jealous of her beau.

“I suppose that makes sense,” she tentatively admitted. “And I do love you too.”

Their lips fell together like puzzle pieces once again, drawn by a magnetism she couldn’t put a name to. Her arms looped over his neck and shoulders, fingers lost themselves in his hair. His hands planted themselves like trees against her sides, his knees firm against the bedspread. They were still wet from the shower, their breaths harried.

When they parted, she could still feel his stiffness pressed up against her, and now she was more mindful of it than before.

“Roxas,” she affirmed. “We shouldn’t go all the way.”

“We shouldn’t,” he agreed.

“You don’t have any protection.”

“I know.”

“It would be horribly irresponsible.”

“Incredibly.”

Naminé bit her lip.

Roxas smiled and kissed her nose.

“It’ll be okay,” he said.

“How can you be sure?”

“Do you trust me?”

“I do,” she reasoned.

Roxas kissed her nose again and Naminé blushed — somehow far harder than she had when she’d been a moaning mess, far redder than she was the first time he’d ever told her he loved her.

He braced himself at her entrance and she squirmed in reply, painfully aware of the way she needed him and the sheer ache that would follow if she didn’t have him. He was both smart and sweet and stupid and fickle, and she loved every little bit of his contradictories. She loved him as much as he loved her, even if she didn’t say it as much, and it occurred to her that there was no shame in expressing that love together.

“Alright,” she decided, beating back all doubt.

Roxas braced himself and pushed inside of her with only a moment’s pause, reducing everything in their world to a shared flurry of stars. He was left breathless by the way she felt around him and she numb to the world outside of his skin. Her legs wrapped around his waist and he thrust down into her, slow at first, and then more steadily as he acclimated to the feeling of her love.

Then, every breath was a moan.

He moaned her name and she moaned his in return, their voices no longer hushed or quiet. They breathed each other in, Roxas assailing her neck with a flurry of new kisses in the moment before he brought his lips back to her ear. Naminé’s left hand fell away from his neck to find her lips, and she bit down to keep herself from crying out.

“Don’t stop yourself,” Roxas panted.

“Roxas, I…”

“Say my name louder,” he breathed.

She obliged him.

“Roxas,” she managed, low at first.

“Roxas.”

And then her voice rose in earnest as he thrust inside of her with more force, the head of his member brushing up against a new, decidedly more sensitive spot. She whimpered it and groaned it as his speed increased to match her need.

She was practically melting by the time she felt the familiar ball of electricity bridling in her gut again. Like a spool of wire, it wound tightly in the core of her being, pulling along all her nerve endings like little spokes. Her toes curled in response to its call, and Roxas, somehow aware of it, seemed to even out in reply. His pace steadied and she could feel him inside of her, growing close, his member practically twitching.

“Naminé,” he breathed.

She said nothing, too afraid that the last of her breath would leave her if she dared speak.

He came first, his member stiffening just a fraction of a second before her body unwound completely. She felt him burst inside of her as the thunder in her belly dispersed, replaced by a flood of warmth that spread through her legs and lower body. It turned her knees to water even as she tightened around him, the muscles in her stomach clenching and unclenching with the beating of her heart.

There was thunder in her ears, and then silence as the two of them slowly ground to a stop. Roxas was breathing heavily into her ear by then, his arms shaking over top of her. Naminé was breathless by comparison, her stamina lower than his.

Together, they fell apart, separating into their sheets with bodies slicked by sweat.

Inch by inch, Roxas found her hand through the covers to offer it a subtle squeeze.

Naminé glanced down at his fingers.

Traced them out with hers.

And grinned, just to turn away.


End file.
